


A Loss of Familiarity

by catisacat



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7239097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catisacat/pseuds/catisacat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soldier 76 returns to his old childhood home on a whim but his own personal shadow follows him there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Loss of Familiarity

**Author's Note:**

> AKA grumpy old men grump at each other.
> 
> I need to start writing more again all my story ideas are starting to pile up. \o/

The old farmhouse was absolutely decrepit. He knew it would be like this but knowing and seeing are two different things.

Unkempt fields were encroaching on the property, threatening to completely envelope it. Faded shutters lay either in splinters on the ground or were hanging by a thread, soon to join their brethren down below.

Every single window was completely shattered. Glass sparkled on the overgrown grass as well as the scratched up hardwood floor inside.

Paint was peeling right off, no longer the cheery sunshine yellow it had been when he lived here as a child.

Soldier 76 ran a gloved hand through his own hair, long faded into a pale grey from the bright blonde of his youth. A low chuckle broke the silence. He had more in common with his old birthplace than he’d thought.

Tentatively he walked up to the porch, grateful the rotted wood didn’t give out under his weight. Sturdy and unyielding the door still stood. Locked. He turned the rusted key over and over in his hand as he stared it down. Hopefully the damned thing would still work.

It clicked open easily and he stepped into the place he hadn’t been in since he was nothing but a little teenage brat with a heart full of hope and eyes sparkling with the dream of being a hero.

Stepping back into the once familiar house was uncomfortable to say the least.

His parents had moved out not long after he enlisted so they could live somewhere warm and sunny. No farm living for them anymore. The house had remained unsold all these years. He wondered if it counted as trespassing that he was in here.

Not that anyone would care. An unknown man in an unknown location.

There was no real reason for him to be here. No objective. Frankly, when he’d found himself wandering through the fields towards this familiar establishment he almost wondered if he was already going senile.

An old man looking for a home that was long gone.

Dust flew up around him as he laid down on his old bed. His room a depressing time capsule of better times or at least the hope of them. Posters of his heroes. He’d met some. It really is true what they say about meeting them. Don't.

He’d always tried to change that himself. Be a beacon for hope. No matter how he was feeling, no matter what, if some little kid ran up to him wanting an autograph or to take a picture with him he was going to be on point. That child was never going to have their perfect picture of him smashed. Not on his watch.

Although he supposed it had happened anyways. After his supposed death there had been a mourning period from the public. For many, his death had been the herald of the end for Overwatch.

Some still clung to the dream. He was particularly fond of that Tracer girl. Young, bright, cheery. A picture of optimism even in the face of all that had tried to beat her down so far. He worried about what else was going to try to crush her spirit though.

Hands clenched together they rested on his stomach. He stared through the hole in the roof at the gloomy skies above.

How had things gone this wrong?

He shouldn’t be here. A man living an empty life, searching for an answer he may never find. Alone, save for a few faint lingering threads here and there.

But it was the threads that had been severed that haunted him.

Some quite literally.

He remembered the event with perfect clarity. Each agonizing moment.

Nothing burns into your brain more efficiently than the mental image of your once closest confidant glaring you down from the other end of a loaded shotgun.

God, how had things gone so wrong with him?

Soldier didn’t pretend to know why or when or how the man he’d once loved had twisted into a monster but it had happened nonetheless.

Reaper.

He’d always been dramatic so Soldier wasn’t terribly surprised by the hokey moniker that he’d picked. Best described as grouchy and antisocial, unless you really made a concerted effort to get in his good graces.

Soldier remember acutely how difficult that had been.

Even now he wasn’t sure what had driven a young Jack Morrison to badger Gabriel Reyes into a state of friendship. Certainly wasn’t a crush, that had come much, much later. For him at least. Apparently Gabriel had always had a soft spot for sunshiney do-gooders. Probably what had helped him actually breach the ironclad locks Gabriel had tangled himself up in.

Whatever had been his motive, he’d sat his ass down next to his grumpy superior at breakfast, lunch and dinner until the man had relented and started talking back.

Initially all he got in return were sharp barbs. Cold, witty comments to whatever thing he was happily prattling on about. Eventually it had turned to actual conversations. Winning the war after losing many, many battles.

It had only escalated from there. Didn’t take long for rumors to fly around the other members of Overwatch about how much time the two spent together. They’d tried to hide it, largely because Gabriel was a very private man. He would have blasted his head off with his own shotgun before letting anyone but Jack know things like how cuddly he gets when he gets tired or how he’s actually a huge scaredy cat about horror movies.

Particulars like that had remained hidden but their relationship had quickly failed to. 

Oh there’d been teasing from the others, that was unavoidable. Thankfully there were only friendly jokes. Most of the other agents seemed to find it endearing that they were together.

They were happy. Or at least Jack had assumed they were.

Up until the explosion at the Swiss Headquarters.

When he became Soldier 76 and Gabriel became Reaper.

Now he was just a weird old guy who’d wandered his pre-dementia ass all the way to his childhood home on some bizarre whim. Feet dangling off the edge of the bed that was always too small.

And god knows where Reaper is.

Well, maybe it wouldn’t take the divine to locate him. Not with the thick black smoke billowing into the room, twisting and turning into his line of sight. Quickly replaced by the view down the barrel of a stupidly big shotgun. Unsurprisingly Reaper had made it even more ornate and showy than before.

“Any last words?” he croaked out at Soldier as he lay there, masked face still pointed skyward as if his life wasn’t being threatened in his own childhood home.

“Ah, shut up,” Soldier replied, absentmindedly knocking the weapon away from his face, “I ain’t fighting you here.”

He put the shotgun right back in place, “I’m not here for a fight, I’m here for a slaughter.”

Soldier’s raspy laughter only made Reaper jab the gun into his neck.

Ignoring the looming threat, Soldier just shook his head, “No you aren’t. Gunning down people who aren’t fighting back isn’t exactly your M.O.”

“You don’t know me.”

Soldier shook his head as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, dangling his hands over his knees. He grunted at the pain already creeping up his spine, “I do. More than I’d like to.”

A second shotgun joined the first, “Those your last words?”

“Gabriel, sit the fuck down and stop being a drama queen for like five minutes. Jeez.”

Again Soldier slapped away the guns. Reaper regarded him coldly for a few seconds before dropping his firearms to the ground and turning with a childish flair, dropping onto the bed like a box of rocks. Arms crossed so he could properly convey that he was going to pretend to hate this.

“Don't call me that.”

“Too late. Already did.”

“Don't do it again. Or else.”

“No matter what you want me to call you I still know you're still the same man I…” Soldier paused before continuing, “The same man I called my friend.”

“Is that what we're calling it now?” he spat, a resentful edge cutting through the air.

“A few seconds ago you didn’t even want me to call you by your name, do you really want me talkin’ about how we were dating for years? I mean, what would you say?”

Reaper said nothing as he just stared at the shotguns he’d left scattered on the ground.

Yeah, exactly.

Soldier was surprised as Reaper actually gave an answer, “We were lovers.”

He jolted as Soldier had a sudden and short burst of laughter, a brand new set of shotguns appearing to point at him. Halfheartedly he batted at them again, “Calm down, calm down. I’m not making fun of you. It’s just… so ‘you’ to go with ‘lovers’ over like ‘boyfriends’ or something.”

Eyes narrowed behind the skull mask, guns jabbing more insistently into his face as if daring him to try to talk his way out of this.

Soldier paid it no mind, far too used to having firearms in his face, “You’re theatrical. Go big or go home. Part of why I liked you back then in the first place. You’re not just another boring soldier, even if you’re kinda cliche. I mean really, look at what you went with to try and be intimidating. Death itself.”

Reaper jerked away as his mask was suddenly tapped by a red gloved hand. Adjusted it quickly even though he didn’t need to, glaring out at Soldier through the eye holes. Eyes which widened as Soldier raised a hand and after a few clicking noises removed his own mask and visor. He tossed it over his shoulder, letting it land on the neatly folded blankets with a soft noise.

“How did things go this wrong, Gabe?” Jack grunted, rubbing at his own aching shoulder.

It took a second for Reaper to realize that question wasn’t rhetorical. He was more than a bit distracted by seeing Soldier’s face for the first time in years and years. New lines crossing it, both scars and wrinkles. Same bright blue eyes now tired and defeated.

Pulling himself out of his surprise, Reaper stumbled for an answer he failed to find. He just shrugged, looking away from the once well-known face.

Both sat there in the ice cold silence. Jack groaned again as he tried to twist his back into some state of comfort to no avail. Shit, he’d really did a number on it in that last fight. Damn kids ganging up on him.

Despite the skull mask covering him Jack could still feel Reaper staring at him intensely, reexamining his own now exposed face. He shot him a challenge of eye contact, “Ya know I didn’t take off my visor for shits and giggles. You gonna join me anytime soon so we can talk like adults?”

That hung heavily in the air as they faced off silently. After what felt like an eternity Reaper hooked a claw under his mask and pushed it up, flicking it off before throwing it behind him. There was a clunk as it collided with Jack’s visor.

He was halfway to complaining about that but was quickly diverted by the shadowy face. Jesus, Gabriel hadn’t been kidding when he’d called himself a dead man walking. Skin grey and discolored, pulled too taut against his skull. Once soft brown eyes completely blacked over like two tar pits bubbling in his face. He really did look like death.

The quiet hung just too long, a wildfire of rage ripping across Gabriel’s emaciated face as he quickly clawed for the discarded mask. Jack realized a second too late why; his jaw had been hanging open like a damned fool.

“Shit,” he spat, grabbing at the skull mask himself and pushing it hard enough to send it clattering under the bed, “Sorry just… didn’t expect that, okay?”

The apology was clearly not accepted as guns were chucked at the ground and a clawed hand painfully caught his wrist, twisting it with a growl, “You did this to me.”

Agitation rose to the surface again, “You did it to yourself. You did all of it to yourself and everyone else. How about that? You did this to me.”

He expertly wrenched his arm to freedom, Gabriel was always stronger but he was always faster. It helped that he was completely disarmed by that comment. Whereas his flair for dramatics had been something Jack had always been fond of, Gabriel’s selfishness and obliviousness towards that was definitely not.

“You’re fine, what are you talking about?” he hissed, with a dismissive gesture to all of him.

“I’m alone. I had a job I loved with more friends than I could count. I had you. Hell, who knows maybe we would have gotten married and adopted some kids. Started a family.”

“Fuck your white picket fence daydreams.”

“You say that but I’ve seen you smile like ten times in all the years I’ve known you and the longest I’ve seen it last was when that little girl ran right past me and latched onto your leg, saying you were her favorite. You remember her right? Black hair, pigtails, frilly little black dress? Looked like a little Wednesday Addams.”

Of course he remembered her. Ran right up after the fight in Dorado, completely disregarding the fallen bodies she was running past. The girl’s mother had nearly had a heart attack, yelling after her in Spanish to come back. She weighed nothing when Gabriel had hoisted her up and carried her back to her terrified family. Unable to keep the smile off his face.

It had been the subject of conversation for every single Overwatch agent for a whole week. Jack wasn’t about to own up to it but he still had copies of the photos of the event that Gabriel had tried so desperately to delete stored on a flash drive somewhere.

Gabriel just grimaced at that though, averting his eyes to the door and beginning to wonder if it was time to leave, “Just nice to get some recognition. For once.”

“I always appreciated you and you know that.”

Black empty eyes shot him a look that was an even mixture of guilt and jealousy, covered in a layer of uncertainty.

“You got the recall message too didn’t you?” Jack asked.

“Yes.”

“That why you’ve been following me around the past few weeks?”

Gabriel straightened up at that, indignant, “I have not been following you around.”

“It’s not like dressing up like you do is conspicuous. Been hearing things in every town we’ve been in. You scare old people you know that right? Heard a little old lady worrying that her time was running short ‘cause she’d seen the grim reaper.”

“It’s a coincidence. I have better things to do than chase after you.”

“Look, you showed up here in the middle of goddamn nowhere, so unless you’re going senile and starting to wander you’re fuckin’ following me.”

He shut up again, not really having a good answer to that.

Jack continued, “Hell, even I don’t even really know why I’m here. Just thinking about that damned recall message. Guess maybe some part of me wanted to remember why I wanted to be a hero in the first place.”

“I don’t know why they sent me it,” Gabriel muttered, mostly to himself, “I was never the heroic Disney prince they wanted in the first place. They never cared about me.”

Jack answered nonetheless, “You know none of that is true. You’re not that stupid. Most of us never were perfect heroes and you know it. Hell, even I’m not now.”

“You were though. Once.”

“Doesn’t matter. The past is the past, you can’t change it and you can’t relive it either,” Soldier said, grabbing his visor off the bed and clicking it on as he stood up, “I’m going to answer the recall. Need to take my own advice. Look forward, not back. You should too.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Gabriel sneered, crossing his arms.

With some difficulty Soldier managed to crouch down and fish the discarded skull mask out from under the bed. He handed it back to Reaper and nodded, “I would. I think you would too.”

He shot some wary glances up at Soldier, looking for deceit that wasn’t there, before pulling the mask back over his face and grumbling, “I’ll think about it.”

Extending a hand to help pull him up, Soldier’s smile was thankfully hidden behind his mask, “If it helps, I always appreciated you. Even if I didn’t say it enough. I mean it.”

It helped. Reaper accepted the hand after only hesitating for a second or two. He tried to escape tough as Soldier pulled him into a hug that was almost more of a headlock, arms tightly trapping his neck. Attempts were made to tug away but he eventually relented and reciprocated the embrace, metal claws digging into the back of Soldier’s jacket.

Reaper dropped his arms quickly though, trying to squirm away, “You can let go now.”

Soldier just squeezed him tighter, “I missed you, jackass.”

He nearly fell flat on his face as his arms went through black mist as Reaper decided it was high time to make his exit, ghosting out through the front doorway in an instant. Soldier took his time walking to the door and yelling out that he better not have been joking about thinking about it.

Soldier walked back in and took one last look around his old house, carefully gathering up a few mementos that he didn’t like the idea of rotting away. Some pictures. A couple knick-knacks. At least something to help justify the long walk through the tangled field he was about to endure for the second time today.

After he was satisfied he carefully pulled out a worn tablet, still displaying the recall message from Winston. Two large buttons were presented. Simple answers for a simple question. Yes or no. He hesitated only a moment before carefully tapping “yes.”

He hoped Reaper was doing the same, wherever he’d slunk off to. Either way he had a good feeling he’d be seeing the ghost of a man again soon.

Hopefully next time there’d be less shotguns pointed at his head.


End file.
